“Is that a microphone?”
He turned and followed her glance to the small black metal object mounted high on a shelf in the corner of the room.
“Yes, the Abbey isn’t sophisticated enough for video surveillance, but Jurado likes to make me feel the lack of privacy.” He raised his voice. “Don’t you, Jurado?”
“It’s terrible.” Her voice was shrill. “Everything here is hideous. How can they do this to me? I’m frightened and angry. I’m no whore to be—” She broke off. “And now you tell me they can hear us while we—” Her voice rose hysterically. “Well, I won’t have it. I won’t!” She ran across the room to the washbasin and grabbed the water pitcher. She slung it at the microphone, knocking the device from its shelf and splattering both it and the white stucco wall with water. The smashed microphone crackled and hissed as it dangled on its long cord.
“That won’t do any good,” Ricardo said gently. “They’ll just replace it.”
“Is that the only bug?”
“Yes, it’s not really a security device. Jurado only installed it to annoy me.”
“Tape recorders?”
“No.”
“How long do we have?” Her voice was breathless, but no longer hysterical.
He slowly stiffened, his gaze narrowing on her face. “Jurado should be here in five minutes. Perhaps less.”
“The guards in the cell block?”
“They’ll wait for Jurado unless there’s a threat of escape. They know he likes to run the show.”
She flew across the room toward him and spoke quickly in a whisper. “Paco Renalto.”
He repeated warily, “Paco?”
“He sent me to tell you they’ll be attacking the Abbey day after tomorrow. He wants you to be ready.”
“Ready? I’ve been ready for over five months.” Ricardo felt a leap of hope he quickly smothered. “You expect me to believe you? Jurado delivers you to my bed and suddenly I find you’re working for Paco?” He shook his head. “Not likely.”
“You’ve got to believe me. We don’t have much time.” Lara moistened her lips with her tongue and whispered, “Renalto said to mention the caverns.”
Ricardo’s hand automatically clapped across her lips. “Quiet!”
Lara turned her head to avoid his hand. “I won’t say any more about it. I don’t even know what it means. Renalto just said to use it as a password.”
Ricardo was thinking quickly. The Abbey had been breached before by frequent raids but not in the last few years. The grounds were now well guarded and enclosed by an electric wire fence, and even if the courtyard was reached, there were still problems. The Abbey was a one-story U-shaped building and the cells were all on the left side of the courtyard. He shook his head. “The cell block’s too well guarded for him to hit. There’s a machine gun mounted on the roof above Jurado’s office aimed at this side of the courtyard. How does he intend to—”
“How do I know?” Lara’s lashes quickly lowered to veil her eyes. “He just sent me here to tell you to be ready.”
“Who are you?”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m here to help.” She laughed shakily. “Though at the moment I can’t think why. I never expected to playact as some kind of sacrificial virgin when I came to Saint Pierre. It’s not my style at all. I’ve always been very sensible and practical.” She tilted her head as she heard the sharp clatter of footsteps on the flagstones in the hall. “They’re coming. Tell me, do they give you pencil and paper?”
He shook his head. “And the only time we’ll be able to talk freely is when we’re taken to the showers. None of the guards or officers speak English except Jurado, but I never know when he’s listening.”
“Showers? When is that? Never mind, there’s no time.” She dashed across the cell, threw herself on the cot, and turned her face to the wall, curling up in fetal position just as Jurado burst into the cell followed by two guards.
Jurado’s cheeks were livid with fury as he looked down at Lara’s cringing form. “You disappoint me.” He strode to the cot, grabbed Lara’s arm, and jerked her to a sitting position on the cot. “No man likes an hysterical woman. Get hold of yourself.”
“I don’t want to be here.” Lara whimpered. “I can’t stay with him. I don’t know what to do. Can’t I—”
Jurado’s palm cracked against her cheek.
She cried out as her head snapped back from the force of the blow.
“That’s enough, Jurado.” Ricardo took an impulsive step forward, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Can’t you see she’s too frightened to know what she’s doing?”
“Then she’ll have to learn.” Jurado took a step back from Lara, and the annoyance disappeared from his demeanor as he saw Ricardo’s expression. He nodded approvingly. “It goes well. Your protective instincts are already aroused and you’ve barely met the girl. What will you feel after you’ve taken her to bed?” He motioned to the microphone one of the guards was examining. “How long will it take to fix that?”
“It will have to be replaced. I have to remove this one and then go to the storeroom and get another one.” The man shrugged. “Perhaps an hour.”
“Then do it. I have an idea we may hear some very erotic sounds coming from this cell in the next few days.” Jurado glanced back at Ricardo. “And then I’ll have you, Lázaro.”
Ricardo didn’t trust himself to speak. He should have remained silent when Jurado had struck her, but rage and possessiveness had risen like a red haze. Possessiveness? The thought sent a chill through him. “She means nothing to me,” he said without intonation. “Do what you wish with her.”
“I will.” Jurado strode toward the door. “And with you, my fine rebel.”
Notorious is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2010 Bantam Books Mass Market Edition
Copyright © 1990 by Iris Johansen
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
BANTAM BOOKS and the rooster colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in mass market in the United States by Bantam Books in 1990.
eISBN: 978-0-553-90749-0
www.bantamdell.com
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Iris Johansen, Notorious
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